Disclosure
by Dr. Temperance Brennan
Summary: Angela wasn't having the easiest morning. Nearly late for work, she had forgotten to dry her hair and brush her teeth. All because of that stupid erotic dream she had been having for nearly a week now. Her and Brennan...
1. Chapter 1

**A note from the author: I've never really put my work on before, so hopefully this looks okay...**

* * *

Doctor Temperance Brennan was never a woman to deny factual evidence. That was simply the demeanor of her esteemed occupation. No statement was to be made without backing, tangible evidence of said claim, an unspoken rule for examination on the Platform. She even made it a point to admonish such "misconduct" and reprimand to absolve. Resorting to intuition and gut feeling in a high-maintenance case sent her stomach into turmoil, the mere thought of it made her uneasy. Analysis was one of the many things she did best; as the Jeffersonian's head forensic anthropologist, she strove to accomplish nothing less than perfection. That was simply... Brennan.

However, Angela was far too complex, yet too simple a character to psychoanalyze. She was a fiery, strong-willed, free spirit; too spontaneous to be contained for something so scrutinizing. It was one of the many things Dr. Brennan loved about her. But like Angela, these feelings were so utterly contradictory. Her unpredictability sometimes led to carelessness, especially under circumstances involving alcohol; and her feisty nature often frustrated and confused Brennan, but she loved Angela all the same. She couldn't quite picture her life without her.  
Brennan was washing dishes after breakfast when the call came in. Body found. Olympia Park. Pathologist and Anthropologist needed. Booth, of course, came along to collect preliminary information, oversee the procedure, and make sure Bones was safe, despite her protests that she was more than capable of keeping herself safe. She would interject every so often to inform him that he was treating her like a child.

The smell of decomposition hit them like a freight train as they exited the SUV. Booth recoiled sharply as the foul scent of rotting flesh flooded the wooded expanse,  
"Gah... Jeez!" Booth exclaimed, covering his mouth and nose with a handkerchief,  
"What happened here?" He asked as they approached Cam who was kneeling beside the body.  
"I'm thinking body dump..." She surmised with a slight curl of her upper lip as she prodded through the chunks of flesh.  
"Blowfly larvae indicate the victim's been out here for at least four days..." Hodgins chimed as he held up a writhing maggot, lowering it into a glass dish to examine later at the lab.  
"Great. Four days. You got age, race and gender, Bones?" Booth scribbled down the information that had been collected so far, and turned to Dr. Brennan who pulled on a pair of thick, rubber examination gloves and began to sift through the amassment of muscle, tissue and organs.  
"Shallow sciatic notch indicates female, oblong orbital sockets and palette indicate Caucasian, the degree of closure on the cranial suture places age in the late 30's." Brennan replied angling her head to better view the body. Booth nodded and began to walk back to the car.  
"Ugh... God, I think I might have to pass on our lunch date today, Bren..." Angela whimpered feebly, as she lowered her camera.

Brennan looked away from her work to acknowledge Angela, who was looking down at the camera screen. Angela's dark amber irises were focused elsewhere as she hastily redid her ponytail. Her gaze flickered up to meet Brennan's and time seemed to slow. Within her troubled gaze, Brennan could see clearly: disgust-likely pertaining to the case, Angela was rather squeamish-, some hesitance, and a very vague underlying hint of lustful yearning. All chatter around the crime scene seemed to fade to a dull murmur until Angela's cheeks flushed bright pink and she tore her gaze from Brennan's to sort through the collection of pictures from today. Brennan looked back down at the corpse in front of her and was overcome with a peculiar sensation that lit fires in her stomach and made her heart flutter.  
A glint that was tucked between the victim's sternum and partially buried in beneath the lung finally caught her attention and tore her from her reverie.  
"What's this?" Cam inquired as Brennan withdrew a shimmering rope of exquisite stones.  
"Motive for murder?" Hodgins supposed, offering her an evidence bag.  
"I dunno. If it were motive, it probably wouldn't be with the body." Cam interjected. Brennan was silent.  
"Right, let's get this back to the lab..." Booth announced, drawing everyone away from the site while Hodgins and Cam wrapped up the body.

Angela wasn't having the easiest morning. Nearly late for work, she had forgotten to dry her hair and brush her teeth. All because of that stupid erotic dream she had been having for nearly a week now. Her and Brennan. Last night's indulgence was rather enjoyable...

* * *

A slender lingering finger traced the curvature of Angela's bust, waist, and hips, trailing towards her navel, stopping at the barrier of her lace underwear. Brennan's tongue met the skin of Angela's neck, her teeth taking across her collarbone, leaving raw, red lacerations in their wake. Angela gasped and laced her fingers into Brennan's tousled auburn curls.

"Bren..." She panted, oxygen slowly becoming an unattainable commodity.  
Brennan's lips trailed over the the scratch marks soothing them with feather-light kisses, Angela instinctively arched her body toward Brennan allowing her hand to unclasp the offending piece of fabric. With her chest exposed, Angela reached to cover herself, but Brennan quickly snatched her wrist and pinned it against the bed. The anthropologist's vixen-like body hovered over Angela's own, allowing the artist to finally lay a hand on Brennan's creamy, porcelain skin. Brennan adjusted her position so that she was now straddling Angela, pinning her body to the bed with her hips.  
Brennan's palm caressed Angela's bare chest, as she lowered her lips to her partner's jawline. Angela writhed feebly at the contact, her fingers which rested on Brennan's waist tensed sharply, trailing down her obliques.  
"Shit..." Brennan murmured, shuddering as Angela's nails traced her sides and she kissed down Angela's neck to her perked breasts. Brennan's lithe lips formed a devious smirk that sent a ripple of arousal down Angela's spine. Brennan's lips closed over her exposed breast, her tongue flicking across the rosy colored bud, eliciting a soft moan from the young artist. Brennan's other hand cupped Angela's breast, rolling her nipple between her thumb and index finger.  
"God. Sweetie..." Angela moaned, her free hand finding its way back into Brennan's hair. A dulcet chuckle resounded in Brennan's chest as she continued. Ardency began to take root in each house within her that harbored her most secretive carnal desires. Brennan's hand finally released Angela's wrist and wandered toward her navel, she adjusted her body so that she was nestled between Angela's legs, a single delicate fingertip drawing slow circles atop the lace of Angela's underwear.  
"Dammit, Bren... Please..." Angela hissed through her teeth, but Brennan had other intentions, deciding she would make Angela wait.  
Through the fine gossamer of her underwear, Angela could feel every stroke of Brennan's talented fingers as they traced fine patterns across her throbbing clit. Every so often, Brennan's fingers would wander beneath the fabric and draw circles in her soaking layers, only to pull away and continue the ministrations on her clit.  
"Fuck... Brennan!" Angela pleaded, her teeth sinking into the anthropologist's exposed shoulder. Brennan moaned softly, slowly slipping down to Angela's stomach, her teeth closing over the lacy adornments as she looped her fingers through Angela's underwear and pulled them down her legs at an agonizing pace.  
Brennan had stopped to admire the artist, sprawled on her back before her. Her throbbing clit aching for immediate attention, her pearled nipples and perky breasts that rose and fell with each heavy, labored breath.  
"Brennan... Oh god, BRENNAN." Angela whimpered, throwing her head back against the pillows, her hair splaying out beneath her.  
Brennan had decided that she'd had her fun teasing the poor girl beneath her and brought her fingers up to Angela's soaking heat. The artists hips arched impatiently toward Brennan who finally gave into temptation, sliding two fingers into Angela who let out a gentle sigh. Angela's inner muscles clenched around the foreign protrusion, but oh, it felt marvelous. Angela's hips rolled forward to match Brennan's pace as her fingers slipped in and out of her.  
Angela was already so close to climaxing but they had only just started, and Brennan had incredible stamina and an insatiable hunger to satisfy when it came to sex.  
Brennan's mouth closed over Angela's breast, leaving a fiery trail of purple marks on her skin leading up to her neck.  
"Say my name, Angela." Brennan purred, licking the shell of her ear. "I want to hear you scream my name when I make you come." She hissed, capturing Angela's lustful gaze with one of her own. Cerulean hues, gilded cobalt with lust espied Angela's. The artist's amber-tinged irises had darkened to a sultry onyx that gazed back to her through half lidded eyes, and thickly woven lashes.  
Angela could feel herself balanced precariously on the edge of ecstasy. Brennan had her so whipped, she could barely think. Angela's lip quivered as she choked out a throaty moan.  
"B-Brennan... Sweetie..." Angela moaned.  
Brennan curled her fingers, her index finger brushing up against the sensitive little bundle of nerves deep inside her. Angela's body trembled with pleasure, she was close to a climax, Brennan could see it.  
"Say. My. Name." Brennan demanded, punctuating each word with a nip at Angela's collar, her thumb working tight circles over Angela's throbbing clit. She could feel her inner muscles begin to tense around Brennan's fingers.  
"Let go for me, baby." Brennan whispered.  
"Oh god, Temperance..." Angela panted, as Brennan's mouth found the spot behind her ear, the spot Brennan knew drove Angela crazy,  
"Mmm... Oh god, right there...! Yes..! YES! TEMPERANCE!" Angela came with a gasp, muttering profanities tied with Brennan's name as she rode out her orgasm, legs trembling, chest heaving. Brennan lowered her lips delicately to Angela's neck and whispered against her caramel skin.  
"Mm. Good girl, Ange..." Brennan panted with a sensual grin, drawing slow, broad circles around Angela's clit. "Good girl."  
When she could finally breathe again, Angela held her partner, burying her face in Brennan's silky, russet curls.

* * *

Their passionate embrace was abruptly truncated by the harsh blare of Angela's alarm. Angela thrust her hand in front of her eyes to alleviate them from the glare of the morning sun. She propped herself up on her elbow to turn and lie back against her pillow but recoiled in disgust to find her comforter was soaked with moisture. She sat up and tossed the duvet cover off of her body, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she stood to turn off her alarm. That was when she noticed the wetness that pooled between her legs, at the apex of her thighs, and the heat that plagued her sweating body.  
Angela's heart skipped a beat in her chest. The thought of Brennan's body dominating hers, pleasuring her and pushing her to orgasm sent another wave of arousal down her spine to her already dripping core. Angela bit down on her lip, her mind cultivating a surprisingly raunchy, yet not unwarranted, image of Brennan... She debated finishing the job that her dream had started, but ultimately decided she didn't have the time to get herself off. Nor did she have the time to recall the details of this past nights dream, despite her immense desire to. Angela shook her head to rid herself of the daunting thought. She was going through a celibacy phase dammit, and no amount of erotic fantasy could shake her into relinquishing herself. Not to anyone.  
Angela quickly pulled on a robe and crossed her bedroom into her bathroom. So caught up in the fervidity of her dream, Angela allowed her ardent mind to wander as she was in her shower. As hot water poured over her, she could only imagine her body forced against the cool ceramic tiles as Brennan worked her from behind. Or the other way around.

She dared to push her limits...

...Brennan in a short, tight pencil skirt bent over her desk, her underwear cast unceremoniously across a table somewhere in her office, looking back at Angela with pleading eyes...

...Brennan wearing lacy lingerie and stockings, tapping the end of a leather riding crop in the palm of her hand, her sultry gaze expectant and hungry...

...Brennan's hand colliding sharply with her student's rear, as Angela was admonished an appropriate punishment for being late to her teacher's seminar...

...Brennan slowly undoing the buttons on her blouse, casting the garment aside as she approached Angela who was sitting in her office chair before straddling her waist, her hips rolling greedily against Angela's own...

...Brennan in a short, buttoned coat, approaching her in her office, closing the door and locking it before moving to shut the blinds. Slowly untying the belt and unclasping the buttons, letting it drop to the floor to reveal her naked body, in all its ethereal wonder...

...Brennan...

Angela had to stop herself from going too far, she shut off the water and snatched a towel from the towel rack. Glancing at the clock drew only two words from her lips, the connotation sour and alight with agitation:  
"God dammit..." She muttered, fluffing her hair with her towel to try and rid it of excess moisture. Grabbing the nearest garment of clothing she could find, which so happened to be a dress, she pulled it over her damp body and slipped on a pair of heels, hurrying out of her apartment.  
Angela did her best to apply her makeup in the car as she sat in 8 o'clock traffic, cursing her brain mentally as it blatantly refused to stop it's reeling from the events it had fabricated last night. In fact, the restriction and reprimanding only seemed to encourage the process of these images.

The call came in as she was walking up the steps to the Jeffersonian. Needed photographer for eventual facial reconstruction. Angela let out a morose grumble and tilted her head back in exasperation. As if she didn't have enough on her mind already...

Approaching the scene, Angela looped the strap of her camera around her neck, pulling on a pair of blue latex gloves, for safety measures... Like she'd ever touch a corpse with this much flesh on it. She gagged at the sight and grimaced for a moment, squeezing her eyes shut, wishing that she hadn't just laid eyes on it.  
Yep. That would most definitely take her mind off Brennan for a while.  
She began her operations on the head working down the body, taking other pictures of evidence at her own convenience. It wasn't until she mentioned their lunch date, did she recall her libidinous fantasy. Brennan looked up from the body to acknowledge her best friend's statement and though she couldn't directly meet Brennan's concerned gaze, Angela could feel herself getting warm.  
I mean... she was in coveralls, of course...!  
Obviously she'd be hot, right...?  
...right?

She quickly averted her eyes as far away from Brennan as possible, without turning, and pulled her hair back, reshaping her ponytail, hoping some cool air would help relieve her discomfort. Brennan's gaze didn't falter, and impulsively, Angela met her eyes. All she could see in those lurid, vibrant blue irises was tied to the phrase, "I bet you'd look so hot grasping the sheets on my bed."  
Angela blushed, and she could feel the warmth rising in her cheeks and she quickly tore her gaze away from Brennan's.

The car ride back to the lab was torturous, her mind fading in and out of its reverie as Cam rattled on about potential weapons that might fit the profile. Interesting enough, the face appeared to have been smashed in with a cylindrical tube, possibly a pipe or a baseball bat. Angela frowned, the Squintern who had the daunting task of skull reconstruction would be kept busy for a while. Her lustful mind, on the other hand could only picture Brennan snapping on a pair of gloves, articulating and assessing the curvature of Angela's spine and hips. Brennan bending her over the illuminated table in the Bone Room, caressing Angela's bare ass, giving it a light smack. Brennan's hand snaking down between her thighs, agonizingly peeling off the latex gloves. Two fingers tracing the heat of her soaked core, and a sultry purr remarking her desires to fuck her senseless.

Angela entered her office, her workbag slung over her shoulder, her head swimming with frustration at her lack of control. She dropped her belongings into her desk chair and draped her coat across the backrest. She probably just needed a snack. Unscrewing the lid on her secret jar of peanut butter, she crossed the room in search of a plastic spoon.  
"You're at work now, Sweetie. You can't just compose all of these indecent thoughts." Angela muttered to herself as she scooped out a generous spoonful of peanut butter. "You're just hungry..." She continued, sucking thoughtfully on the spoon. Angela's mind was suddenly swathed by thoughts of the anthropologist bent over the metal examination table on the Platform, Angela kneeling behind her. Her tongue making broad sweeps across Brennan's dripping layers, flicking over her clit...

Angela nearly choked on her mouthful of peanut butter. She pulled the spoon from her mouth, coughed, and swallowed hard.  
"...Hungry and wayyy horny." She mused finally, running her tongue across the roof of her mouth.  
"To whom would you be referring?" a gentle alto voice behind her inquired. Angela tensed and whirled on her heel,  
"B-Brennan!" She stuttered, her hands flattening against her thighs in shock. "I-I didn't say anything!" She quickly countered, sounding less confident than she hoped. Brennan's eyes flicked from right to left in confusion.  
"No? I heard you referring to someone as hungry and horny?" Brennan paused, her eyes alternating their focus between the table, and the spoon in Angela's hand and then back to Angela. "Based on the open jar of peanut butter on the table, my conjecture is that you consider yourself as the former. And judging by your flushed skin, dilated pupils, and adamant denying of my inquisition, I can safely conclude the entirety of your statement was addressed to yourself." Brennan assessed without missing a beat, gesturing to Angela's flushed face and chest which now darkened in color.  
Angela was cornered now, but luckily, Brennan had no clue about the source for Angela's arousal.  
"...Yeah, you'd be right." Angela confessed, letting her shoulders slump.  
"Of course I am." Brennan remarked casually with a shrug. She always was. "Why is this such an issue? We have a case that needs your immediate attention." Brennan tilted her head to the side, a visual key that she was concerned.  
Angela shook her head and smiled reassuringly, "It's not an issue. I'm going through a celibacy phase..."  
Brennan thought on this for a moment,  
"Celibacy, or not, it's not healthy to put aside our undeniable carnal desires to engage in intercourse. Science dictates that it is one of the most primal urges of humankind, along with war, and the accumulation of wealth. Would you like me to help you..."  
"NO!" Angela yelped quickly, before realizing she had just cut Brennan off.  
Brennan gave her another brief look of confusion and continued,  
"...find someone to alleviate you of your distress?" She finished.  
Angela pursed her lips, her hands balled around the hem of her skirt before she tensed her hands against her thighs once more.  
"No, that's okay, Sweetie. I'm pretty dedicated, I can't lose focus. Thanks, though." Angela replied softly.  
Brennan nodded understandably,  
"Well, if there's ever a way I can help... Please tell me." That was all that left her lips and she turned abruptly and left the way she came.  
"Mm, there are a lot of ways you could help me right now, Sweetie..." Angela muttered under her breath as she watched Brennan walk away.

Angela did her best to map the events and information that would lead them to their perpetrator with the minimal information the Jeffersonian had obtained so far. Constructing algorithms, applying the variables, mapping a visual of the crime scene, even searching for the necklace found with the body; anything that would take her mind off of Brennan. Finally, Angela was called up to the Platform. With reluctance, she sighed heavily and pulled on her blue lab coat, snatching her lanyard from her bag, and clipping it onto one of the lapels.

Stepping onto the Platform, she was greeted with Cam's inquiry of something Wendall had said as she sifted through the pile of the putrified flesh as she carefully separated it from the bones and placed them in metal bowls for a toxicology screen. The particulates found on the victims shoes would go to Hodgins for identification and further analysis. Wendall was instructed to also take the remains and bring them to Hodgins for cleaning once he was done logging the injuries sustained pre and post-mortem. Angela was required to do absolutely nothing other than take pictures of the only factor that could possibly lead to an ID at the present moment. Facial reconstruction. Many of the teeth had been removed, so dental history would be unethical and a waste of time. Cam had also probably figured what with Hodgins cleaning the bones and ID-ing particulates he'd have enough on his plate.  
Angela gathered as much information from her photos as she could. It had taken all of her strength not to envision herself naked, pressed flat against this table. She crossed her legs hoping to sate her arousal somewhat, but to no avail. Warmth began to pool in the pits of her stomach and she shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot as Cam passed her with the remains. Wendell exited the platform with a tray of Petri dishes filled with particulates and granules from the victim's body, and suddenly, Angela was left alone on the Platform with Brennan.  
Brennan looked away from the remains to catalogue a new discovery when she looked up to see Angela in her state of mild disorientation, her face flushed and blotchy, and her breathing erratic and growing labored.  
"Ange." Brennan asked softly, pulling off her gloves and discarding them in a nearby waste bin. "Are you alright? You look rather distracted."  
Angela snapped back to attention and nodded firmly.  
"Y-yeah... Sorry, I just have a lot on my mind." She blurted quickly.  
"Would you like to talk about it? I have a few minutes to spare before Wendall gets back." Brennan suggested, gesticulating to the direction in which her intern had left. At her suggestion, Angela blanched and quickly responded,  
"I'm okay. Really. I..." Angela paused, looking back at her office, hoping she'd find an excuse, "I gotta develop these." She held up the camera containing the photos from the crime scene, and scurried off the Platform and back into her office, leaving Brennan to wonder what Angela didn't want to discuss.

Brennan watched Angela leave and returned to her work, cataloging visible injuries sustained to the body. She was not a woman to discard fact, that was simply who she was, and the fact was, that there was something bothering Angie that was too personal to talk about. Brennan's brow furrowed as she examined the clavicle, concluding that there was a nick on the bone not yet marked by hemorrhagic staining. Indicating that the victim had been stabbed and the subclavian artery severed after the victim died. That, and something was very wrong between her and Angela. She internalized the moment Angela's eyes met hers at the crime scene. The artist's resilient auburn irises gilded with an underlying hint of lustful onyx had permeated the atmosphere between them establishing tension so thick, the air felt tangible. Brennan felt herself growing warm, her skin tingling as she recalled the bubbling sensation in her stomach, rippling down her spine. Brennan shuddered involuntarily and tried to focus on the subject at hand, but couldn't stop herself from picturing Angela gazing back at her, her glossed lips pulled back into a welcoming grin. Brennan eventually was subdued, keeping this image in the back of her mind as she worked, Angela's charming smile etching a small grin onto her own lips. Of course, as social cues weren't her forte, so too was identifying her own emotions as a result of others and her subconscious desires... She pulled on a fresh pair of gloves and continued her analysis.

Wendall returned to the Platform with new information. He and Hodgins had found several kinds of pollen particulates not native to the area in which the body was found. Implying that the victim was killed elsewhere and brought to the site. Brennan nodded without saying a word and pulled out her phone to tell Booth. Wendall watched as Brennan pulled out her phone to call Agent Booth, as she gazed off towards Angela's office, looking somewhat dazed, definitely not a characteristic the doctor exhibited. He disregarded it as none of his business, and perhaps nothing more than a derivative of fatigue and he turned back to the remains.

Booth had made arrangements to meet Sweets at the Royal Diner for lunch and had invited Brennan to tag along, but she politely declined to finish working. Booth left the Jeffersonian muttering something about how Bones was all work and no play, and therefore, was no fun. Angela had overheard Booth grumbling to himself about Brennan as she was working.

So far, she had arranged a map of all the trees in the area that had matched the pollens from the particulates and had cross-referenced her findings with the weather patterns of the past four to five days. She stood in front of the projector screen, chewing on the inside of her cheek as her thumbs worked quickly over the liquid crystal surface of her tablet.  
She knew she'd probably have to tell Brennan sooner or later, but personally, Angela was more a fan of waiting for an opportune time to reveal secrets. She wasn't even sure if Brennan really needed to know about her involvement in her recent dreams. So she shrugged off the thought and transferred her results to her tablet so she could apply her findings.

Angela strode quickly across the lab floor, internally hoping she wouldn't encounter Brennan, for fear of having to talk about Angela's 'forbearance of confrontation' as Brennan would put it. She rapped her knuckles on Cam's door, but there was no response. Angela slowly propped open the door with her ankle and let herself inside,  
"Cam?" Angela asked, looking around the pathologists office to find that she was nowhere to be found. Angela hung her head in defeat.  
"Brennan it is..." She muttered, opening Cam's door again.  
She mentally steadied herself as she reached for the door to Brennan's office.  
"Hey, Bren..." Angela began.  
The anthropologist pivoted in her desk chair, toward her visitor, looking up from a book she was reading. Brennan was wearing a white button-down blouse tucked into a black pencil skirt, and was wearing her auburn locks in a bun, held in place with a pencil. Angela gulped as Brennan pushed her reading glasses up the bridge of her nose, the ones Angela thought made her look like a professor, a hot one at that. Not that she'd ever tell Brennan...  
"Have you found something?" Brennan inquired, pulling off her glasses.  
"O-oh... Yeah." Angela stuttered, holding up the tablet in her hand. She turned and walked out of Brennan's office, the anthropologist following close behind. The click of Brennan's heels against the linoleum tiles sent chills down Angela's spine.  
Angela loaded up the data on the Angelatron and described her findings,  
"I cross referenced the specific pollen particulates Hodgins found on the victim's clothes and the weather patterns of the past five days, and I found that there are only three areas in the state where a combination of those pollens would occur at the time our victim was murdered." Angela drew her thumb around the three areas, indicating the potential sites with a yellow circle. She turned proudly to face Brennan who had been staring at her as she spoke. She seemed to be ruminating on this new information but Temperance Brennan's thoughts based on facial analysis was always indecipherable. Angela felt her face redden.  
"You've done an exceptional job, Ange." Brennan finally remarked with a firm nod of her head, and Angela could only grin smugly in relief, of course she had.  
"Thanks, Sweetie." She replied with a light laugh, she turned back to the Angelatron and began to alter some of the variables to further home a location. Angela's mind still spinning as it wove intricate fantasies of her and Brennan, and almost instantly Angela pressed her thighs together, hoping to quell her obvious desire.  
"Would you mind telling me what's bothering you? It's not healthy to keep your emotions pent up." Brennan stated, crossing her arms. Angela tensed at Brennan's exasperated tone and slowly turned toward her, setting her tablet down on a nearby cabinet. She put on a convincing smile and looked up toward her friend.  
"Really, Sweetie. It's fine!" Angela reassured.  
"Well, you have been fidgeting and shifting uncomfortably all day," Brennan noted, as she watched Angela press her thighs together, "I merely gathered that this is still an effect of your arousal from this morning. Am I wrong?"  
Angela's mouth was suddenly very dry.  
"You'd be right, as usual..." Angela let her voice waver and fade, hating to admit that Brennan was right. "I'll get over them, though!" She quickly countered. Realizing that she had just let slip a crucial piece of information, her convincing smile shattered and Brennan furrowed her brow.  
"Would that be the person for whom you are lusting?" Brennan asked, now anxious to hear all about this scandalous fiend who had been toying with her friend. Angela was internally smacking herself with a broom.  
"Y-yeah, you could say that." She admitted, toying with her fingers.  
Brennan's lithe lips curled into a small, but zealous grin.  
"Would you care to tell me?" Brennan pushed. Angela was trapped now. If she refused, or lied and Brennan found out, it would draw a rift in between them, with Brennan assuming Angela's sex life was now too secretive to be her business anymore. And with her logic, no doubt Brennan would pull away. But if Angela admitted the truth, and Brennan didn't reciprocate, it would tear them both to pieces. Unlike Brennan, Angela took risks regardless of their odds to relinquish the emotions she felt, it was too irrational and complex to be explained; and that's how she preferred it.

Angela weighed her options carefully, stepping closer to the anthropologist who met her eyes with an expectant gaze, when finally epiphany struck her with the weight of a train. Angela laid a gentle hand on Brennan's cheek, gazing up at her friend with sorrowful eyes and swiftly closed the space between their bodies, capturing Brennan's lips with her own.

Brennan's body went rigid as Angela's lips gently caressed hers, and in that moment, Brennan discarded logical analysis and let herself succumb to the feeling of bliss that rode up her spine. Her lips unwillingly responded adequately, symmetrically complimenting Angela's own. Brennan had always viewed a kiss as an equation, in which both variables must give the same input to produce satisfactory results.

Angela drew back, and Brennan's eyes shot open and she recoiled sharply, taking a step backward. Angela mentally cursed herself for acting so irrationally and squeezed her eyes shut to stop the tears threatening to spill over.  
She felt the shame bubble in the pits of her stomach, and as her heart beat steadied itself, she realized she couldn't bear to meet Brennan's eyes.  
"I... I'm sorry." She whispered,  
And with tears beginning to roll down her cheeks, Angela Montenegro did the only logical thing she could.

She ran.

* * *

 **Whoop there it is... I'll probably make a few changes to these chapters, but leave me a review. I'd appreciate it!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey, here's the second chapter :)  
Little call out to the guest who left that glorious lil' review: what about it do you dislike so much as to leave such a short, mean-spirited review? I can't change much about this story with a review like that :)**

* * *

Brennan's mind was clouded with thoughts of the kiss she had shared with Angela. It was unlike any kiss she'd ever had. Angela's lips were soft, and gentle as they graced her skin, fumbling against her mouth as Brennan met her with a gasp. Tender and delicate, as to not force herself and assert too much dominance, her kiss was humble. The aftermath of Angela's touch still radiated on her skin and lingered like mist across a lake. Brennan shivered as she recalled Angela's embrace, her hand cupping her cheek, her body pulled flush against Angela's own. It was then that Brennan realized that she had subconsciously been wrapping her arms around her waist, as if it were Angela she was holding.

She desired to speak to the artist, but ever since she pinpointed the location of the victim's murder, she had hidden away in her office, doors locked, and the curtains drawn. As she finished cataloging injuries sustained to the body and it was determined that flesh would no longer be of use to their investigation, the remains were sent to Hodgins and Cam for cleaning. Brennan quickly wrapped up her work on the platform and made haste for her office, locking herself inside, and immediately pulling the curtains closed. Brennan dropped herself on her couch, her thumb and middle finger rubbing circles over her throbbing temple. She was hoping to alleviate her headache that had refused to concede with the ibuprofen tablets she'd taken 30 minutes prior. Brennan kicked off her shoes and reclined against the arm of her couch, closing her eyes. Perhaps she'd pay a visit to Angela tonight and settle things with her, let her know how she felt.

Angela meanwhile had been stuck at a crossroads. Her mind reeling with invasive thoughts of what Brennan assumed of her now as she paced the floor, balled up tissues overflowing from her waste bin and onto her carpet. It seemed an eternity had passed before her day ended. Angela quickly scurried out of the building, locking her office door. She knew Brennan would be staying later so she wouldn't have to worry about inadvertently encountering her. Her pace slowed to a traipse as a slight predicament hindered her advance. Brennan was standing in the Bone Room, leaning her back against the illuminated table. She held a clavicle and was staring up at the vast shelves that housed hundreds of buckets of skeletonized remains. Anxiety bubbled profusely in Angela's stomach and she briefly debated interrupting her, but refrained. Knowing Brennan, she could be in the middle of composing a potential scene that could help Angela immensely and speed up the investigation process. Angela turned to leave when she heard a familiar voice softly call for her.

"Angela? Could I speak with you?"  
Angela kept her back to Brennan and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. Dammit.  
She paused for a while before turning toward the anthropologist and nodded her head.  
Stepping into the Bone Room Angela immediately felt out of place; this space was reserved for scrutiny and analysis, somewhere she clearly didn't belong... Angela felt herself grow uneasy as she felt Brennan's piercing gaze on her.  
"What do you need, Sweeー" Angela stopped herself, the pet name feeling so alien and inappropriate on her tongue,  
"What do you need, Brennan?"  
Brennan looked down at the clavicle in her hands,  
"This isn't the victim's clavicle... I just needed to hold something." Brennan began. Angela shrugged. Brennan had to hold onto something in order to think to an acceptable capacity. A capacity based on her own standards anyway...  
"Okay?" Angela's brow furrowed, she didn't know where the conversation was going at the moment, she leaned her hip against the table, looking down at the bone that Brennan held.  
"We need to talk about what happened today..." Brennan spoke finally, her words tumbling out of her mouth like she had been itching to say them, and had been rehearsing for the past eight hours.  
Angela felt a knot rise in her throat, and she swallowed hard. Unable to conjure up a coherent sentence, she gestured to the door with her thumb and fumbled as she tried to express that she had something she was running late for. Brennan seemed to understand and nodded her head,  
"Could we talk about it tonight, Ange? Please?" She finally queried, looking up from her hands.  
Angela marinated in Brennan's request and the silence that followed was deafening until Angela finally answered.  
"Sure. My place. That okay? We can have some wine, and make it a girl's night."  
Brennan nodded again, setting the clavicle down on the table.  
Angela turned to leave when Brennan called,  
"I'll see you tonight then."

* * *

Angela paced across the floor of her apartment, tidying up the space before Brennan arrived. Her mind couldn't seem to fully grasp Brennan's words. It was either that, or it didn't want to. Initially, she had planned to drown her memories of today in a bottle of Merlot. Of course, this would mean losing the particular sensation of Brennan's touch and the embrace of her lips against her own. Angela grimaced at the embarrassment that sent icy needles down her spine as she poured herself a half-hearted glass. If she had to compromise that kiss for the amount of shame that probed incessantly at her mind, so be it. Listlessly swirling the wine in the glass, she couldn't stop herself from envisioning how the past ten hours would've gone had the situation worked in her favor. Angela sighed heavily. Always the dreamer.

A soft knock at Angela's door drew her from her couch. Setting her wine glass down, she approached her door, mentally readying herself to face Brennan. She had already finished her first glass-and-a-half, and was starting to bristle with euphoria. Angela pulled open the door, and standing in the doorway was her favorite radiant forensic anthropologist. She had fixed her hair since Angela had last seen her, she still wore it in a neat bun, but she looked much more maintained. She was still in her work clothes, the black pencil skirt and white blouse. Angela stepped aside, allowing Brennan into her apartment, scurrying off to her kitchen to pour her a glass of wine, topping her own glass off for good measure. Brennan set down her work bag, draping her coat over the back of one of Angela's armchairs as her friend returned from the kitchen, placing the glass in her hand.

"Thank you, Angela." Was all that Brennan had the capacity to say as Angela took a seat next to her on the couch.

The night drew on at an agonizing pace, and as the contents of the wine bottle slowly diminished, the sound of laughter seemed to correspond accordingly.  
"Angela..." Brennan finally asked, catching her breath as Angela took another sip of wine, setting her glass down on the coffee table.  
"What do you need, Sweetie? More wine?" Angela asked, her words beginning to blend together. As someone who held her alcohol very well, Brennan's mind was clear, mostly; and her objective was a simple one. Brennan declined and moved closer to Angela on the couch.  
"We do need to address what happened today..." She murmured quietly. Angela pouted,  
"Awh, c'mon Bren, can't we discuss this after like... Two more?" Angela giggled coyly, picking up her glass. Brennan slowly pried the wine glass from her friend's hand and set it down on the coffee table, out of her reach. A slightly drunken Angela sighed, knowing it had to be sooner or later.  
"What do you wanna know?" Angela asked, resting her cheek in the palm of her hand.  
"I have many questions, the first of which; is why?" Brennan looked up and met Angela's gaze. Angela thought about this for a moment, wishing she had taken another sip of her wine. She finally shrugged and responded with a slight hint of resistance.  
"I dunno, Bren. It may have had something to do with the dream I've been having for the past week."  
Brennan stared blankly at her best friend,  
"Dreams are nothing more than the restlessness of our subconscious, allowing ourselves to conjure anything within the confines of our own imagination. I don't see how that could possibly have an influence on your behavior towards me. Perhaps that is because dreams take more of a psychological effect, but I'm not usually one to be beguiled by such concepts..." Brennan justified,  
"Okay, I only understood like... half of that, so I'm gonna answer what I can as bluntly as I can. I don't want to have to deal with details right now. I've been having wet dreams about you Bren..."  
Brennan felt herself grow warm.  
"Like... kinky, dominatrix dreams. They're hot. You're hot. I needed sex. You just happened to be the subject of them. Doesn't necessarily mean anything, not to you at least. I know you don't believe in that psychology shit people read into." Angela was rambling now, throwing her hands around as she talked. Brennan noticed that she had a tendency to do that.  
"But those dreams mean a lot to me. You mean a lot to me."

There was no denying that Brennan was an extremely attractive woman, and Angela often found herself intimidated, not only by her appearance, but the way she presented herself. The way she could walk into a room and have the entire world stop spinning for a moment to adjust and compensate for the phenomenon that was Temperance Brennan.

Angela quickly reached for her wine glass, to sate her emotions in the last of her drink, but Brennan's reflexes were faster. She quickly snatched the glass and held it out of Angela's reach.  
"Bren, c'mon..." Angela pouted,  
"Ange, you've had a little too much. And we have work to do tomorrow..." Brennan replied calmly, bracing her leg against Angela's stomach.  
"Pleaaassseee?" Angela pleaded, climbing onto Brennan to reach for her glass. Brennan did her best to hold off her drunken friend, and quickly finished off the remainder in both glasses. Angela gaped as the last of the Merlot disappeared from her glass, and she collapsed in defeat on top of Brennan's chest.

Brennan's body began to tingle with the added effects of her and Angela's drink. She felt Angela's breath against her skin and immediately felt arousal pool in her stomach. She set down the wine glasses, and allowed a stocking clad foot to ease up Angela's bare thigh.  
Angela gasped slightly at the contact and rolled her hips, feeling her underwear dampen. She looked up at Brennan who gazed back at her with an arrogant smirk.  
"Y'know, Ange..." Brennan whispered huskily, tilting Angela's chin toward her. "You're cute when you beg."  
Their lips collided in an explosion of alcohol-induced desire, their bodies pushing against one another as Angela straddled Brennan's hips. Brennan knew this was wrong, but in the moment she couldn't stop herself, never had she desired sex more than she had in this moment. Her teeth snatched Angela's lower lip, drawing it into her own mouth.  
Angela gasped and Brennan seized the moment to slip her tongue between Angela's parted lips. Angela fought back a moan as Brennan's lips moved to grace her jawline. Once. Twice.  
"Perhaps..." Brennan purred in between kisses as her lips traveled toward Angela's ear, "I'll make you beg some more..." Brennan chuckled, taking Angela's earlobe between her teeth.  
Angela whimpered softly as Brennan's lips maneuvered behind her ear, sucking lightly on the spot Brennan knew drove her crazy. Angela tentatively reached for Brennan's shirt when she suddenly paused, to admonish herself for her loss of dedication. Ultimately deciding she didn't care, she gave a half-hearted shrug and murmured,  
"Fuck celibacy..."

Angela's fingers worked quickly to unclasp the buttons on Brennan's blouse as she felt a familiar touch undo the zipper on the back of her dress. Angela stood up slowly to undo the rest of the zipper and let her dress pool in a silken heap upon the floor.  
Brennan gaped at the sight before her; her gaze was met with a body so familiar, yet so foreign to her. Her fingers itched to reach out and pleasure themselves upon Angela's lavish skin gleaming softly in the mellow light. Round, voluptuous breasts withheld by a black bra adorned with lace threatened to spill out of their confines, and oh how Brennan desired that. Her azure irises darkened, hazed with lust. She stood, and laid a gentle hand on the small of Angela's back and drew her closer, her lips finding the tender skin of Angela's neck and promptly pleasuring the spot she knew Angela loved.  
Angela angled her head to give Brennan better access and let out a soft moan.  
Brennan shoved Angela against the wall, slipping her knee between Angela's thighs propping her legs open. Her fingers grasped Angela's chin and held her face still, her voice dropping to a husky whisper as she demanded,  
"Bed. Now."  
Angela could only whimper in reply, leading them into her bedroom.

Brennan took a seat on the edge of the bed, a beckoning finger drawing Angela toward her. She laid a hand on Angela's sculpted rear and pushed her body towards her open lap, propping Angela's legs open with her thigh.  
Angela rolled her hips against Brennan's, her hand gripping Brennan's shoulder, the other tangling itself in her own hair.  
"Shit..." Brennan muttered against Angela's collar, thoroughly enjoying the stimulation from Angela's hips. Brennan's lips trailed down, peppering the plunge between her full breasts with soft kisses, as her hands slipped up Angela's side to unclasp her bra.  
Angela gasped as her fingers worked to pull off Brennan's shirt. Brennan tried to contain a look of inebriated excitement as her hands trailed across Angela's bare skin. Brennan snatched the fabric between the two padded cups in her teeth and swiftly pulled the garment off of Angela's body. The artist's bare chest was now Brennan's to admire, and she couldn't help herself but to analyze Angela's well-maintained figure.  
Everything could always be traced back to science for Brennan, and sex was no different. The gentle curvature of Angela's waist, hips, and back, her bone structure and natural procession of her body could only be described as ethereal. Truly, in her most vulnerable state, Angela was beautiful.

Her hands immediately cupped Angela's breasts, rolling a peaked nipple between her thumb and forefinger, eliciting a soft sigh of pleasure from Angela's lips.  
Angela's nails gripped Brennan's shoulders, leaving crescent shaped indents in the anthropologist's skin.  
In one fluid movement, Brennan stood, spun Angela to face her, and pushed her body flat against the bed. She undid the zipper on the back of her skirt and let it fall to the floor along with her shirt.  
Angela watched in ardent agony as Brennan shook out her hair, letting it fall in loose ringlets over her shoulders, their eyes meeting as Brennan straddled her hips. She reached for Brennan's bra strap, but her wrist was snatched and pinned down beside her. Angela struggled feebly, as she could feel herself getting wetter by the second, but almost immediately conceded, knowing full well that Brennan was stronger than her.  
Keeping a firm hold on Angela's wrist, Brennan lowered her lips to the artist's neck, her kisses slowly moving toward Angela's chest. Brennan's mouth latched onto an exposed breast, her tongue circling around the tender, rose-colored bud.  
"...Oh fuck, Sweetie...!" Angela hissed as Brennan's teeth softly bit down on her nipple, before soothing it with broad strokes of her tongue. She maintained an equal amount of stimulation with her fingers, gently pulling, rolling and massaging expertly.  
Angela's free hand found itself tangled in Brennan's hair, pulling it back from her face, as Brennan nipped at the exposed skin of Angela's abdomen. Brennan slowly adjusted their position so that her leg was hooked over Angela's hip, and she was lying on her side. Angela's wrist was relinquished and Brennan's hand slipped down to tease her in between her thighs. Her thumb made slow circles on the sensitive skin of Angela's inner thigh, and Angela felt her core throb with need.  
"Mm-Ah! Oh god, touch me, Bren..." Angela moaned.  
Brennan raised her eyes to meet the pleading artist's gaze and her expressions darkened to a mischievous snarl.  
"You'll have to beg for it."  
Angela moaned in irritation of the withdrawal Brennan was causing her.  
"Damn you..." Angela hissed between her teeth.  
"Beg." Brennan demanded, and Angela knew that if she was to get what she wanted, she was going to have to beg for it.  
Brennan was a woman of no exceptions, no arbitrary negotiation, her word was final, and until she heard Angela plead for release, she would continue her ministrations.  
"P-please, Temperance," Brennan's indigo irises leveled with Angela's at the sound of her first name, "I want you."  
"Where do you want me?" Brennan teased, delicately trailing across Angela's clit.  
"Oh fuck-!" Angela's cry was muffled as she bit down on her lip, "I want-Ah!" she began, her trembling body slick with sweat, "I want you... Inside me. Fuck..! Brennan, please...!"  
Brennan quirked a deviously shaped brow and allowed her fingers to wander beneath the confines of Angela's underwear, a single, manicured fingertip traced Angela's throbbing core, indulging in the soaking heat that gathered at the aperture of her thighs. Teasing.  
"Dammit, Temperance. Please... I want it. I want you." Angela arched her body in desperation. Brennan, decidedly done with teasing, hooked her fingers into the hem of Angela's underwear and swiftly pulled them off her body and tossed them elsewhere. Brennan's fingers made slow circles over Angela's dripping heat, savoring her body's natural reactions before slipping two fingers inside her.  
Angela let out a gasp that was quickly followed with a moan as Brennan curled her fingers, keeping a slow, gentle rhythm across her clit.

It was no surprise that Brennan excelled at pleasuring her partner. Excellence was merely arbitrary to Brennan, a quality that constituted her entirety. She maintained a slow, agonizing rhythm as her lips closed over Angela's breast.

An enthralled smirk ghosted across Angela's lips, it wasn't like Brennan to behave so irrationally without a copious amount of contemplation, she was acting on untamed sexual tension, and Angela loved it. A gasp left her parted lips, along with a wanton moan that sent arousal rippling down Brennan's spine. Her breathing was beginning to grow heavy with fatigue, but Brennan was determined to give Angela what she desired so much.  
"Tell me how you want it, Ange." Brennan purred, her thumb circled patiently around her clit and her smile widened as Angela shivered at her touch.  
"Just like that... Oh god, Sweetie...!" Angela whimpered as Brennan's lips found her jaw, nipping at her earlobe.  
"I'd love to taste you..." Brennan ruminated aloud, withdrawing her fingers and licking them clean. Angela groaned at the loss of stimulation, but quickly found herself sated as Brennan moaned, savoring Angela's taste.  
The anthropologist met the artist's sultry gaze as they came to the instantaneous realization that her desire was a feasible solution. Brennan's slender body slipped down between Angela's legs, nestling herself between her knees.  
Angela's hand found its way into Brennan's russet curls, as Brennan left a fiery trail of kisses down from her hip, right to the junction between her thighs, making one broad sweep across her core with the flat of her tongue.  
"...Shit!" Angela hissed, her back arching at the unfamiliar sensation as Brennan followed with another swipe. This time, catching Angela's clit with the tip of her tongue.  
"Mm, Ange..." Brennan panted, sliding a finger inside Angela who stifled herself by biting down on her hand as Brennan began to move. Brennan took notice of this, and narrowed her eyes.  
"Moan for me, Angela." Brennan demanded hoarsely, her tongue tracing over Angela's soaking layers as she added another finger. "I want to hear you scream when I make you come, do you understand?"  
Angela tossed her head back and let a guttural moan leave her lips,  
"Ohh, oh god... Yes...!"  
"Yes, what?"  
"Yes, T-Temperance...!"  
"Good girl."  
Angela let out another involuntary moan as she felt herself near release.  
"Fuck, I'm close... Ah! I'm gonna come... Faster, Sweetie." She pleaded, her grip tightening on Brennan's hair.  
Brennan obeyed without having being told twice, and increased her pace, feeling Angela's hips working in tandem with her fingers. She moaned softly against Angela's clit, feeling Angela's inner muscles contract and release against her fingers.  
"Come for me, Angela."  
Brennan curled her fingers, her index finger brushing across the sensitive bundle of nerves deep inside Angela as her thumb worked across her clit, sending Angela over the edge with a scream that she was longing to hear.  
"Oh god, fuck... Temperance! Yes...! Yes! YES!"  
Brennan felt herself flush with pride as she brought Angela down from her high,  
"Good girl, Angie." Brennan whispered, bringing herself up to meet Angela's lips with her own.  
Angela could taste the lingering remnants of herself on Brennan's tongue and held her close.

"Good girl."

* * *

 **Hey guys. It'd be a shame if this were all a dream ;)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for waiting so long, guys! And a super huge thank you to all you wonderful folks who left me reviews!**

* * *

Angela stared blankly down at the string of numbers that had flashed across her computer screen for the fifth time now. She had been sitting at her desk for the past thirty minutes or so. Her mind was still unable to retain the information she needed to further home the tests results she had just received from the Angelatron's latest simulation. It was either that, or it just didn't want to. The unsolicited memories of her and Brennan entering her mind weren't exactly helping. Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, she slammed the space key with her finger to replay the animation, knowing that as hard as she willed it, the variables would remain the same without manual input. Drumming her fingers against her cheek she looked lethargically down at the test results for the sixth time. The last her motivation finally shattered to pieces and she defiantly slammed her laptop shut and lowered her head in defeat to her desk.

Across the hall in the Bone Room, Brennan was suffering from a similar predicament. No progress of any kind in any direction, despite her meticulous analysis, only seemed to heighten her anxieties, which seemed to manifest in repressed, erratic behavior. The anthropologist gave a deflated sigh as she found no inconsistencies, and lowered the bone she was holding back onto the table where she had found it; only to pick up another to start again. As she reassessed the vertebral column for the third time today, she recounted the similarities of their victim, the now identified, 37 year-old Cassandra Flynn, and Angela. She couldn't seem to get her off her mind. At this point, she wasn't entirely sure whether that was a good or bad thing. Pursing her lips, her hands tightened to fists pressed against the illuminated table.  
Letting out a short, irked sigh through her nose, she conceded in her lack of findings, reminding herself that no discoveries of any kind very often implied that her team had done an exceptional job cataloging. She peeled off her gloves and tossed them haphazardly in the direction of the garbage can, watching them land askew by the door. She stared down at the poorly discarded equipment and for a moment, she debated opening her mouth to berate the inanimate object for betraying her before she could admonish herself for such a ludicrous immediate thought. Instead, she crossed the room and scooped the gloves off the floor to properly dispose of them.

As Brennan exited the Bone Room to return to her own office, she caught a glimpse of Angela; her head facedown on her desk, her overcoat folded into a cushion. So it seemed Brennan wasn't the only one having a difficult time at work today. However disconcerting Angela's current condition, it did not sway Brennan from her course back to her office. Seeing how Angela appeared to be suffering from immense fatigue for the past several days, she ultimately decided it would be best not to disturb her. Not by herself. Not after the night she spent at Angela's. She shook the thought from her mind and kept walking.  
Brennan draped her lab coat over the back of her swivel chair and practically fell into the seat. She ignored the dull buzz of her phone in the pocket of her slacks, assuring herself that the text was of no immediate importance. It was probably just her editor.  
The image of Angela draped sleepily over her desk entered Brennan's mind again. Angela's dark hair fell in loosely curled ringlets that veiled her face, which Brennan could only imagine, held a tranquil expression. An expression she had seen once before. It was a sight that never truly left her mind since the night they spent together.

* * *

The gently sloped curve of Angela's waist and hips rose and fell slightly with each gentle breath she took. Brennan lay awake in the dark, the room illuminated only by the moonlight shining through the slats in the blinds. Her somewhat inebriated mind swam with vivid recollections of the events that transpired that night. Angela's trembling body at the mercy of her touch, the moans that left her lips with each stroke of Brennan's talented fingers, eventually pushing her to orgasm... She had never really taken a liking to her name, but that was until she had heard it as a plead for release from the lips of someone she hadn't realized so desperately desired her. That thought alone was enough to send waves of arousal rippling down her spine, straight to her core and Brennan was forced to avert her train of thought.

Stirring in her sleep, Angela shifted onto her side, her distinguished features highlighted by the soft glow of the moon. Finally allowing her eyes to rest upon the form of her sleeping colleague, Brennan allowed herself to further study the details of Angela's resting face. The soft curve of her brow, the angularity of her jaw, the supple skin of her rosy cheeks and the defined bone underneath. Brennan felt her pulse quicken despite her willing for it not to. She recognized the blossoming sensation in her stomach and the fluttering of her heart. Attraction. Mutual attraction. She couldn't help but scrutinize. It was who she was; what her career required her to be. But she could find no faults. A sensible deduction, as a dislike for certain physical features was a subjective conclusion anyhow. However, this fact did not comfort her, on the contrary, really.  
Perhaps this was her realizing that a little irrational action was not, in fact, as unpleasant as she had initially made it out to be. Or perhaps this was her realizing that she wrongly interfered with a process she shouldn't have; that in doing so, she unknowingly gave Angela the most mind-blowing orgasm she'd ever experienced.

Perhaps this was her realizing that she enjoyed being intimate with another woman.

Brennan sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, staring blankly down at a spot on the carpet. This was all being blown entirely out of proportion... Whether these affections were a side effect of her own hormones or the alcohol, she didn't know. But they alone were simply too irrational to be considered further. Feelings like these were not something that necessitated that one delve into them for facts. They were exactly as Angela had told her, and that's what scared her.  
Brennan, by choice, had never truly been in touch with the 'science' of psychology, and finding herself questioning her reasoning behind her own behavior was growing more alarming the more she thought about it.

She winced slightly at the pounding in her head that could've only come from the copious consumption of alcohol. She pushed herself off the bed and padded quietly out of the room and to the kitchen for a glass of water. Brennan stood in the low kitchen light, in front of the cracked freezer door, chilled to the bone; only now realizing she was still in her underwear.  
Plucking two ice cubes from the ice tray that she had set on the countertop, she quickly turned to the faucet, only to send the plastic tray crashing to the floor, scattering ice across the kitchen tiles with a clatter. Brennan swore aloud and immediately knelt to the floor, gathering the spilled contents in one hand and tossing them aimlessly into the sink. Fearing that she had woken Angela, she quickly refilled the ice tray with water and set it carefully back in its place. A soft inquisitive voice from behind shook her and she nearly dropped the glass.  
"Sweetie? Is everything okay?"  
Brennan shut off the faucet and placed the glass on the counter, turning to face Angela, leaning against the dishwasher.  
"Yes... It seems that I've dropped your ice tray in my haste to get back to bed." Brennan admitted slowly, her grip tensing on the glass on her hand, raising her eyes to look at her friend.  
Angela had a small, silk robe wrapped loosely around her body, her hair was tousled; as if she had just run a hand through it, and her eye makeup had been smudged. However Brennan couldn't take her eyes off her.  
"Oh... Was wondering what that noise was." Angela remarked sleepily, moving further into the kitchen. As the artist stepped closer to her, Brennan could feel the warmth rising in her cheeks and her resolve begin to shrink. Angela's voice was barely above a whisper as she murmured softly,  
"Y'know... Black suits you very well."  
A flash of contact at the small of her back. Another at the base of her jawline.  
When their lips touched, Angela had alienated any space between them. So much so that Brennan needed only raise her head to level their eyes. Against the pleads of her subconscious, Brennan's body reacted instantaneously; her eyes fluttering shut, her hand slipping into Angela's hair. Angela was spurred by the soft moan that escaped Brennan's parted lips and lowered her mouth to Brennan's jawline, planting slow, sensual kisses leading up to her ear.  
"Ange..." Brennan pleaded breathlessly, growing more and more disheartened by the direction in which they were going. This only seemed to urge Angela further as the feather-light kisses traveled towards her collar.  
"Ange." Brennan repeated, firmer this time, moving her hands to Angela's shoulders.  
"Hm?" Angela purred against the silken skin of Brennan's neck.  
At the moment, Brennan wasn't sure whether it was safe to admit to herself that she was enjoying it. All she knew was that as much as she didn't want Angela to stop, her mind screamed at her to reassess the events from earlier before delving into another encounter before it was too late.  
"I..." Brennan began, but found herself momentarily subdued, sighing as Angela suckled softly on her pulse point. Her grip tightened slightly on Angela's shoulder and she forced herself to pull away, holding Angela at arms length.  
"I'm sorry, I just..." A pause to recollect her thoughts. "I have a lot that I need to think about."  
Angela stared at Brennan for a moment. She pursed her lips, internalizing on the signals that Brennan was sending her before she conceded and nodded her head understandingly. Although it caused her pain to accept that Brennan needed space to sort her feelings out, it was what she knew Brennan needed in order to move from this point. Otherwise she'd be stuck, regardless of the option she chose. Knowing Brennan, finalizing a decision like this would take time... Months even. But the concept of certainty was one of the few things that comforted her. Angela felt the heat rise in her cheeks as her hands toyed with the sash of her robe.  
Once again she had acted irrationally and pushed Brennan too far.  
"Of course. I... I wasn't..." She stammered, running a hand through her hair, trying to push past the quavering in her voice. "I wasn't thinking. That was rash of me. I'm sorry."  
Brennan nodded her acceptance and pulled Angela into a gentle embrace. This time, Angela was the first to pull away.  
"We should get back to bed... It's 4:47 in the morning, and we have work tomorrow."  
Brennan nodded her agreement silently, trying to ignore Angela's deflated tone. Angela moved by her to get herself a glass of water, setting a gentle hand on Brennan's bare hip, pushing her aside to retrieve a glass. Brennan let out a silent gasp at the contact and immediately made to move out of Angela's way.

Brennan slipped back down the hall and back to Angela's bedroom, setting her glass down on a coaster on her bedside table before crawling back under the sheets. She hadn't meant to put a damper on the mood. She had to remind herself that Angela knew and had accepted that meaningful relationships for her were always difficult to establish. Even so, it was difficult for Brennan not to feel guilt for not being as in touch with her own emotions as her friends.  
She lay silently, curled on her side for several moments, staring at the closet door before Angela settled in beside her.  
She felt warmth at her back as Angela cuddled up to her shoulder.  
"Is this okay?" Angela questioned softly, tentatively draping her arm over Brennan's waist, looking for any signs of discomfort. Brennan remained silent, but settled into Angela's arms, shuffling closer to her on the mattress. A small, contented sigh drifted from her lips and Brennan closed her eyes, drifting off into a peaceful slumber.

* * *

Neither of them had spoken to each other about that night since, and Brennan had still gotten nowhere in her endeavors. She was becoming more and more disconcerted by the toll it was taking on her work.

With some reluctance, she pulled her computer from her bag that she had slung over the arm of her chair and set it on her desk. She figured she might as well try to finish a chapter of her latest novel while she wasn't needed anywhere else in the lab. As she scrolled through the document, she found her eyes lazily drifting over the text, her mind refusing to retain any of the information the page. For what she accounted her vacant mind, she didn't know. But she was going to make very little, if any progress unless she isolated and came to terms with her predicament.  
Perhaps it was the lack of significant findings in the case.  
Or her poorly configured sleep schedule.  
Or Angela.  
With Angela back on her mind, Brennan heaved a silent, frustrated sigh through her nose and sat back in her desk chair, lazily swiveling herself back and forth. Tilting her head back and closing her eyes, Brennan found herself in dire need of a nap.  
Surely it wouldn't be too detrimental to the working dynamic of her team if she shut her eyes for a few moments? Right?  
The overworked anthropologist lowered her head to rest on top of her arms that she had folded on her desk. By the time Brennan had composed an argument to rationalize against any intrusive thoughts, she found herself drifting off…

 _"Brennan…"_

 _A hint of contact flashed across her toned abdomen, trailing downwards as lips softly nipped at the shallow curve of her collar, soothing the angry, blooming marks left there only minutes before. As labored breaths and soft moans permeated the thick atmosphere, hands trailed over bare skin articulating each curve with a delicate fingertip. With her body pushed against a wall, Brennan tossed her head back with a frustrated groan, due to the loss of sufficient stimulation. Her lover's face was shrouded in shadow, but Brennan could see them clearly. Amber eyes narrowed ardently into slits glowed like coals and held her in place with a piercing stare that sent arousal rippling down her spine in waves._

 _"Angela…" The name was ripped from her lips as the artist leaned forward to lavish the exposed valley between her breasts with open-mouthed kisses. A single hand curled firmly around Brennan's wrist as the other brushed teasingly along the inside of her thighs. Angela's lips traveled back, past her clavicle and to the tender skin of her neck. Angling her head, spurring Angela further, a stifled cry escaped her._

 _"Angela… Angela!"_

 _The artist could only chuckle in response as she retracted her hand from between Brennan's thighs. With some ingenious maneuvering, her touch lingered upon the spot where Angela knew Brennan needed her most. An enthralled grin spread slowly across Angela's features as she savored Brennan's natural reaction to her touch, her breath like fire against the anthropologist's skin. A choked moan escaped her as Angela's lips caressed her throat, moving slowly to capture Brennan's own…_

The potency of the artist's touch seemed to recede, along with the image of her figure, much to her subconscious' dismay, and was slowly being replaced by a repetitive prodding at her right shoulder.  
"Hey. Hey, Bones!" The voice was distant, clouded, and slowly pulling her further and further from her reverie. A low groan escaped the stirring anthropologist in protest of such movements as she raised her head from her desk.  
"Mm… Angela…" Her throat was dry, unlike the rest of her body, which seemed to be swathed in moisture. Confusion began to manifest as her mind slowly regained consciousness, but quickly ebbed upon realization that her lab coat had been draped over her. Only to be replaced by immediate discomfort and disquietude as she felt the heat gathering at the crux of her thighs.  
"Bones." Repeated the masculine voice which Brennan now recognized,  
"Booth…?" She queried sleepily, tucking back the wayward strands of hair that had come loose from her ponytail. She squinted at the harshness of the light that pervaded her office space, which she quickly discovered the source to be her desk lamp. Switching the lamp off, Brennan swiveled in her chair to look at the agent.  
"What are you—?" She began, pulling her arms through the sleeves of her lab coat.  
"I sent you a text about it like half an hour ago, so when you didn't show, I thought I'd stop by to remind you in person."  
A slightly flustered Brennan shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her dampened underwear were becoming more and more of a nuisance, in more ways than one. The confusion did not leave her features. Brennan wasn't entirely sure to what event her partner was referring.  
"I'm guessing you forgot that we were going to lunch?" Booth inquired finally, quirking a brow as he stared down at her with an amused smirk. His tone was merely inquisitive for his own satisfaction; he knew that there was something amiss when she didn't show up at the Royal Diner.

Brennan removed her phone from her pocket to open the message.  
"I'm sorry, Booth. I just... I got an insufficient amount of sleep." Brennan half-admitted. Her statement wasn't entirely false, however there was more to her current disorientation than merely an inadequate night's rest.  
She rose from her chair before realizing there was no need for her to be wearing her lab coat, as she would be leaving with Booth to go to lunch anyway.

* * *

Brennan stirred absentminded spirals in her half-empty bowl of soup as she stared blankly out of the window of the diner through the slats in the blinds. Rain pattered down on the sidewalk outside, drowning out Booth as he continued on about the most recent findings at the FBI. Booth waved his fork as he posited something about fraudulent bank charges that were currently being tied to a suspect, possibly implying motive. Brennan, who didn't catch the context of the predicament, nodded her head distantly as her focus shifted down to her cup. Booth offered her a concerned look, a look she did not acknowledge and only continued to gaze intently into her tea. Her silence wasn't exactly unusual, as he knew she was rather accustomed to it, but in most cases, she would be disclosing newly found information on the case. Booth's concern had been growing exponentially in magnitude from the minute he realized Bones was running late, and her silence was not alleviating any of the stress. He bobbed his head awkwardly, hoping to catch her eye.

Ever since Brennan had stepped out of her office, her mind had been incessantly pervaded with recollections of her dream. They wouldn't be so unnerving if she had not been questioning her current relationship standing with Angela. Perhaps these were the occurrences to which Angela was referring when she disclosed her feelings for her the night theyー  
"Hey... Uh, Bones?"

They were rather distracting...

Brennan raised her head,  
"Hm?"  
Booth raised his eyebrows and speared his pie crust with the tines of his fork,  
"You doin' okay, Bones? You seem... I dunno... Distracted?"  
"I'm fine." She replied with a casual shrug, lowering her gaze to the salt shaker to resume her introspection.  
"Doesn't really look like it. Unless, you're waiting for uh... Mr. Salt Shaker to tell you somethin'..." Booth lifted the small, glass container off the table and shook it slightly.  
Brennan always felt more confident than she looked when she lied to Booth. Of course, being the people person he was, he could always see right through her.  
Brennan slowed her stirring to think. First, she debated whether any future attempts to lie to him would prove to be fruitful for either of the two parties involved. But ultimately decided now was not the ideal time to partake in such movements...  
When she last spoke of a dispute between her and Angela he didn't want any part of it. His justification was made on the grounds on which he thought the two of them were far too close for a man to intervene. But this time would be different, right? Booth didn't need to know the details of her liaison... Speaking on the topic of sex in a public place caused him discomfort anyway.  
"I... Have someone on my mind. That's all." Brennan concluded finally, inwardly praising her abilities to withhold unnecessary information.  
"And this person has got you so wound up, you can't even focus on the case?" Booth followed immediately, leaning forward. Brennan pursed her lips. Was that meant to suggest interest, or disappointment?  
"I'm not entirely sure what your tone is implying... But yes." She replied cautiously, setting down her spoon.

Booth leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. His facial expression was a convoluted mix of bemusement and enchantment. Brennan sunk her teeth into her lower lip, waiting for Booth to say something, anything. In most cases, silence brought her repose; but in the wake of anticipation, Brennan's nerves began to take over. She anxiously drummed the pads of her fingers against her thigh as she kept her eyes trained on Booth as he gathered his thoughts. From the looks of it, he didn't seem particularly enthused by the information, but what did she know of discerning emotion from facial cues?  
A broad, introspective smile spread across his face as his laughter filled the diner, turning heads and slowing the habitual commotion. Furrowing her brow, Brennan uneasily shifted her cup around on the saucer before raising it to her lips, waiting for Booth's laughter to cease. When it did not, it prompted an inquiry.  
"What is so funny?" She didn't know whether to feel insulted or relieved by the fact that this was very obviously amusing to him for whatever reason.  
"It's about damn time, Bones." Booth quipped, as if it were obvious. The tension in Brennan's features did not taper. She continued to stare her partner down until his laughter quieted. What did he mean by 'it's about time'? Her being single was a conscious choice, what did it matter to him that she put work before her social life?  
"I don't know what you mean." Brennan stated firmly, her expression unchanging.  
"Look, I'm just saying that you taking interest in some guy… That's a pretty big change for you, since you don't really… Uh." Brennan shot him a piercing, analytical stare that drilled holes in his forehead prompted him to reassess his statement and he quickly backtracked. "So, who's the guy?"  
Brennan opened her mouth to counter,  
"W-well, Booth. It's not…" But her explanation was truncated,  
"No, no. I got it. It's that guy who owns that bar downtown!"  
"It's not like tha—" Brennan began,  
"No, wait! It's the delivery boy you were talking about last week."  
"Booth! No, it's neither of them; it's a little more… Personal than that…" She admitted, lowering her face slightly to hide the heat that rose in her cheeks. Booth's facial expression shifted from enchantment to vexation.  
"Oh god, Bones please do not tell me that he's a Squint…"  
"I—"  
"It's that Tom guy who works in Archives, is it?" Brennan's scowl deepened, her lip curling in revulsion.  
"Seriously? No!"  
"Or that one tech guy… James?"  
"Why would it be him?" Brennan scoffed, her tone growing more and more irritable.  
"No… It is totally that security guard, Chris."  
"Booth…" Brennan warned,  
"Oh no… Bones." Booth's tone had lost all traces of warmth and had been replaced with severity, a kind that pleaded for an adverse answer, "Please don't tell me it's that Zack kid…"  
Brennan, thoroughly fed up with Booth's heteronormative bullshit, slammed her hands against the diner table, silencing him and several tables in the immediate vicinity.  
"Will you please just let me speak?!" She exclaimed finally, exasperated. After a brief moment, she recalled their current setting and how her outburst had likely alarmed many others, and she exhaled a trenchant, composed breath. Slumping back into her chair, Brennan debated whether or not the identity was worth the imminent discrepancy. However, it reassured her that Booth's reaction would compensate for his incessant prodding for information.

"…It's Angela."

* * *

 **Ta-da! There we have chapter 3! Thanks so much for being patient, I've been neglecting this story for such a long time... Spring break is coming up soon though, and hopefully I'll get something uploaded.**


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